


Jealousy, Thy Name is Bilbo Baggins

by sharmini



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Bare Toes, Fluff, Jealousy, Jumpers, Living Together, M/M, Modern AU, Punching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharmini/pseuds/sharmini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Bilbo's fault they are not allowed in the Prancing Pony anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy, Thy Name is Bilbo Baggins

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at Bilbo/Thorin.

_No true love there can be without_  
_its dread penalty—jealousy._

_Owen Meredith (Lord Lytton)_

Bilbo knew he would be negotiating something the moment he wheeled his bike into his flat. Thorin was sitting at the kitchen counter, directly facing the door, reading the newspaper laid out flat on the kitchen counter. He appeared not to have heard Bilbo come into the house, but Bilbo knew better. And he knew that whatever the negotiations were, he had already lost it. Thorin was wearing a grey cable-knit jumper, Bilbo's favourite one actually. And was shoeless, his toes curling and uncurling as his feet rested on the rung of the high stool he was perched on. Thorin had come for battle fully armoured. Bilbo might as well yield right then; he had never won any arguments with Thorin whenever jumpers and bare toes were involved. Bilbo hated such moments of weaknesses, but Thorin did look extremely alluring wearing in his jumpers. And his littlest toe sort of bent inwards…

_Focus, Bilbo. Focus, damn it._

Bilbo leaned his bike on the hallway, making as much noise as possible to make Thorin look up from the newspaper he was reading. He was getting rather offended that the world news was getting more attention from Thorin than him.

Thorin was slow to look up, but when he did, Bilbo could not help smiling, despite the trepidation regarding whatever Thorin has to say to him. And there was also the matter of Bilbo's heart giving a lurch (of the pleasant variety) because after nearly five years together (this was their third year of living together), Bilbo still could not believe how gorgeous the man he has listed as his emergency contact, introduced to his friends as his boyfriend and told his family that he was going to spend the rest of his life with is.

"We're out of food," Thorin's voice cut into Bilbo's reverie.

Bilbo, pulling fingerless gloves off his hand, winced when he heard Thorin. It was his turn to get the food. He promised Thorin he would last night. Thorin had wanted to, but Bilbo, knowing how busy Thorin was at the office at the moment had said it would be no problem. "I forgot. I'm sorry." He was slightly behind of a sculpture commission from an art gallery in Edinburgh. And there was his teaching job at the Art faculty at the uni. It was deadline week and between the assignments he was collecting and dealing with the variety of excuses (ranging from amusing to highly – improbable) his students have come up with, grocery shopping was completely forgotten.

"I suppose we can have cereal with orange juice for dinner." Thorin had turned back to the newspaper and though it was the wrong thing to think, Bilbo thought a sulking Thorin was most endearing.

 Not to mention many levels of  _hot_  as well.

Thorin too must have just returned from work; droplets of water clinging to the tendrils of hair at the back of his neck suggested that he had just showered and thus had only made the discovery of the lack of food in their flat.

"As opposed to the alternative of…?" Bilbo said, knowing that he was risking the not-quite-angry-sulking turning to real sulking (consequences of which would involve a long night, or two, or more, on the sofa). But he just could not help it. He hoped he was not grinning stupidly or anything; he was actually enjoying this.

"Nice, warm shepherd's pie, a nice glass of red wine and an apple cobbler for pudding," Thorin said, looking at Bilbo. He no longer looked as if he was going to sulk. He was trying to entice Bilbo to agree with him to go out for dinner. Bilbo was about to say yes, until it dawned to him where Thorin had decided they would be having said shepherd's pie, wine and apple cobbler.

"At the  _Prancing Pony_?" Bilbo was no longer smiling. And he no longer thought that it was endearing for Thorin to be on the verge of sulking. Thorin can sulk for all Bilbo cares; he is not going to go to the _Prancing Pony_  if it was the last pub in Bree.

Or any other pub. Because risks of walking into one with Thorin is always the same, regardless of its location.

"Yeah," Thorin replied, shrugging. He finally closed the newspaper, which Bilbo knew was nothing more than a prop. Thorin knew Bilbo resented the pub, so he needed to pull all the necessary stops to ensure that Bilbo would agree to whatever he was suggesting.

Bilbo decided that the lovely jumper and bare toes are not going to work this time. He resolved not to let things like jumpers in the shade of grey that brought out the azure in Thorin’s eyes  to sway his decision.

Bilbo will not go to the pub. Period.

"But who'd want an almost home-like ambiance and great food and an enjoyable walk to the pub and back? We'll just have cereal with orange juice." Thorin was looking at Bilbo.

_Seriously, that jumper is going to be the death of me. I wonder if I should kiss him..._

No such luck. Thorin has his eyes narrowed.

Bilbo sighed, one of many for the evening. "There's no need for sarcasm," Bilbo pointed out, stuffing his leather gloves into his backpack. He dropped the backpack on the floor next to his bike and went into the adjoining living room, pretending to be interested in finding the TV remote and ignoring the hungry rumblings of his stomach. And Thorin's eyes on him.

It worked, for about a minute. As Bilbo looked for the remote, Thorin had left his seat at the counter and was looking into the refrigerator. "Oh. It seems we're out of orange juice as well," he called out, sounding very nonchalant about it. Bilbo rolled his eyes as he dropped to the sofa. "Brilliant. We will now know how a rabbit feels when it is fed with pellets. It would be a most enlightening experience. And what will it be,  _Rice Krispies_  or  _Cornflakes?"_

"How about we order in a pizza..."Bilbo began, turning to look at Thorin. He was going to be firm about getting the pizza and not going out to the pub.

Eye contact was established. Bilbo inhaled sharply.

Thorin was wearing the grey jumper.

And it was Bilbo's favourite jumper of Thorin's.

And his toes were doing that curl-uncurl thing again.

And he looked absolutely adorable (and many, many other things that are between adorable and sexy and flaming), standing at the counter, arms crossed at his chest, regarding the two boxes of cereal.

And he was pouting.

Thorin would argue it was not a pout. Bilbo begged to differ.

Bilbo sighed, turning to the blank TV again.

The battle was lost.

_As if it had been a battle in the first place._

"We'll go down to the pub."

A hint of a smile lifted the corner of Thorin's lips. But of course, he will not make this easy for Bilbo. "Are you sure? Because I am looking forward to a scintillating dinner of dry cereal with multiple shots of whiskey to wash it down."

"I said we'll go to the pub, didn't I?" Bilbo said, standing up from the sofa.

"Yes, you did." Thorin said, walking into the living room. He came to stand before Bilbo. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the next part of Bilbo's concession about going to the pub.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes at Thorin. He always gets the blame, no matter what the reason for his actions. Or what was at stake. But, Thorin, despite having won the battle (which was never a battle, Bilbo thought again ruefully), was unwavering in his gaze on Bilbo. Bilbo sighed again, his shoulders slumped. "And I promise I won't start a fight."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

That finally brought forth a smile to Thorin's face. He uncrossed his arms and reached out for Bilbo's hand. "It's a great place. I wish you would give it a chance, Bilbo. It'll grow on you."

_The only thing that will grow if I stepped into the place is resentment._

Bilbo sighed inwardly as Thorin went to gather his coat and wallet. But Thorin wants to go there; he and the landlord have become good friends; Thorin gives him investing tip and the owner gives them a free pint whenever they dropped in.

Which was quite frequent until three months ago when Bilbo punched a man in the face.

That had caused uproar in the pub; it was a family establishment and such acts of violence were…frowned upon. Bilbo punched the man and found himself, not long after, outside the pub, nursing a stinging fist, whilst Thorin assured the proprietor of the pub that though he was not sure what exactly had happened, it will never happen again.

They never went back to the pub since that evening.

Thorin never asked what prompted Bilbo to punch the man. For even though the punch was all sorts of impressive (his fist balled, his arm swung back and the surprisingly pleasing sound of smashed cartilage when Bilbo's fist connected with the man's nose), the reason behind it had not been so. If Thorin had asked, Bilbo would not have known what to answer him. Thorin, on his part, had not questioned Bilbo. He did take Bilbo's hand though, once he was outside the pub, checked if anything was broken and held his hand as they walked back in silence to their home. The incident was never mentioned again and Thorin never spoke about eating at the pub until this evening.

Bilbo wondered what had happened to prompt Thorin to think that going to the pub was a good idea. Or that Bilbo would even be allowed to enter the pub in the first place.

"Come on, Bilbo," Thorin called out, interrupting Bilbo's ruminations. He was at the hallway, slipping into the rich, dark brown leather jacket (another item in Thorin's wardrobe that Bilbo absolutely loved), the antithesis of the jumper and setting off his dark good looks and impressive height in a most spectacular manner.

Once again, Bilbo sighed. And knew that he being evicted from the pub was a foregone conclusion, even before they had stepped out of their house.

-X-X-X-

It began immediately once they got to the  _Prancing Pony_. The usual cheerful noises of the dinner crowd became less discernible as they walked into the pub.

Actually, it was more obvious when Thorin walked into the pub, but Bilbo tried not to think about it. He knew he was with a man whose good looks were reasons why Bilbo had looked at him in the first place when he met him all those years ago (Bilbo has to be honest with himself; broad shoulders, those arms and eyes the blue of a summer sky…Thorin is, simply put, stunning). And well, if people are to believed, Bilbo has heard the odd remark or two that his own boyish looks were equally enticing. And there was the fact that Bilbo and Thorin made a striking couple…

Bilbo braved the walk from the front door to their table, trying not to delve much on the fact that they seemed to have a table reserved for them. He wondered if Thorin had made a reservation earlier…the dining area was almost full, only another couple of tables were empty.

"I had a talk with Ron," Thorin said, as they sat at their table. "Ron actually did not mind much, but he was concerned about the other diners. I assured him it will never happen again."

Bilbo frowned. If anything, he did not want Thorin defending him. He can fight his own battles (ones involving bare toes and jumpers notwithstanding) as the man with the broken nose would attest to. But Thorin looked earnest enough and Bilbo knew he meant well.

Bilbo was glad of it, he was. But, the  _Prancing Pony_  has robbed Bilbo of all other emotions except for apprehension. He wanted to tell Thorin he appreciated it, but he could not.

Because he had already seen looks that he knew could possibly set off another round of violence before the evening is out. And after that, no amount of talking would convince Ron to ever let Bilbo into the _Prancing Pony_. And Thorin as well.

The thought of Thorin being banned from the pub brought a smile to Bilbo's face, his first happy thought since leaving the house minutes ago. It would great not to having to come to this place. Or have it as an option for eating out.

They were given a menu each, but Thorin already knew what he was having, so he studied the wine list, while Bilbo tried to decide between the falafel and the vegan burger. As Bilbo was mulling over his choices, Thorin excused himself to go to the bar and say hello to Ron.

Less than two minutes later, trouble started.

A group of women, four of them, came into the pub and took the table behind Bilbo. Bilbo turned to look at them, as he edged his chair close to his table; they smiled at him, appreciating his gesture…and probably his grin. Once they were settled into their seats, they started talking about their boss and their workload, the sale at some boutique…general women talk. Bilbo, having decided on the burger, was determined to ignore them.

Until, suddenly he heard the words, " _tall_ ", " _dark_ ", " _gorgeous_ ", " _jumper_ " and " _yummy_ ".

Bilbo took a deep breath, trying not to think too much about the words he had heard. It could have been about anyone or anything in the pub. Thorin was not the only man wearing a jumper in there. Nor was he the tallest bloke. Bilbo tried not thinking about  _'gorgeous'_  because the word gorgeous implied only to his boyfriend (Bilbo was not being biased, but seriously, if Thorin was in a room, all words _gorgeous_  implicate Thorin) and Bilbo does not want to just jump into conclusion that the ladies were discussing about Thorin. For all he knew, the fish and chips they ordered could be what the ' _yummy’_ intended.

"…single…"

"…definitely…"

"…no woman sitting by herself…"

"…at home…"

"…don't even say it…"

"…if it was me…wouldn't let him out of the door by himself…"

"…what a profile…"

"…this pub is the best…"

"…don't think I'm hungry anymore…"

"…I am. For that hunk of meat headed…"

"…this way! This way! He's headed this way!"

Bilbo did not have to look up to know that Thorin was walking back to their table. The ladies' conversation, which had started out as a whisper had steadily gained enough decibel to make it into an almost hysterical (and not in an amusing manner) commentary that Bilbo was sure half the pub would have heard. He clenched and unclenched his hand, knowing that he was over-reacting by losing his temper. He should be flattered, not wanting to lash out physically. The ladies were doing what he had probably done hundreds of times in his life, checking out the most gorgeous man in the room.

But Thorin was his. Period.

He did not want people (men or women) discussing about him.

Or offer to buy him a drink.

Which was why three months ago, Bilbo broke the man's nose. Welsh, if he remembers correctly. Not bad looking either; brunette, with a beard and moustache combo that would have looked ridiculous on someone else, but worked immensely well for him, and stylish shoulder-length hair. Bilbo had overheard the man, talking to another man, about Thorin. He was telling his companion, (whatever they relationship was, it must have been superficial, because no one in a proper relationship would discuss other men with whomever they were with…yes, Bilbo was all sorts of old-fashioned, but he was perfectly fine with it), as they sat nursing a beer at the bar, that Thorin had ' _presence'_  even while sitting at the corner.

And that Thorin's jumper was ' _adorable'_  but he ' _would have it ripped out in a moment to see what was underneath_ …’

And 'a _gorgeous thing like that, he needs a drink_ …'

That had been when Bilbo's fist had collided with the man's nose.

Bilbo's sighed, trying to tune out the women from the next table. Their discussion, if it can be called one, was getting more and more explicit. And Bilbo was getting more and more angry. He knew that something is going to break.

"Bilbo?"

Thorin's voice caused not only for Bilbo to look up at him, but the women from the next table to fall silent.

And seeing the concerned look on Thorin's face, concern solely for him, Bilbo felt all the anger that had built up inside him dissipate almost immediately. When Thorin sat down opposite him, one hand covering Bilbo's, Bilbo suddenly knew how to get back at the women for  _'discussing'_  about his boyfriend.

Bilbo leaned forward and kissed Thorin, on the lips. And he took his time as well, enjoying it as he always does when kissing Thorin. When he drew back, Bilbo was not sure which he enjoyed more, the kiss or the deafening silence from the table behind him.

Both had been immensely satisfying.

As satisfying as the women's final comment had been.

"…I knew it…"

Bilbo laughed for the first time that evening.

-X-X-X-

Bilbo enjoyed the meal. He enjoyed it so much that he left a nice tip alongside the bill. And told Ron to reserve a table for them next Thursday evening. The walk back was nice as well. Thorin did not say much, but then again, he usually does not. Nor does he have to. Bilbo always compensates with talking for the both of them.

It was not until they reached their home that Thorin finally spoke. They stood on the porch, and Thorin looked at Bilbo, his eyes shaded by lashes made darker in the moonlight. He was amused about something, hence the smile on his face.

"What?" Bilbo asked, hands crossed at his chest, mimicking Thorin.

"Who made you jealous this time?"

Thorin's question took Bilbo by surprise. Bilbo opened and closed his mouth; denial seemed to be the easiest way out of this. But Bilbo had never lied to Thorin and he was not going to start.

Feigning ignorance, on the other hand...

 "What?" He tried to look incredulous. Tried. And failed.

Thorin raised an eyebrow. Of course, pretending to be ignorant did not work with Thorin; Bilbo should have known it would not. "Ron told me. He had overheard the conversation at the bar that day. He was quite surprised that you left it at a broken nose."

"When did you know this?" Bilbo said, hoping his question would divert Thorin from his original question. Well, it was an outside chance; Thorin was after all a barrister and was unlikely to forget any question he had asked.

"Five minutes after you broke the Welshman's nose."

"Oh." It was only response Bilbo could give. He was not sure what else he could have said. Telling Thorin that he had been insanely jealous at some random stranger checking out his boyfriend had seemed absurd then, as it was now. As absurd as Bilbo felt right then with Thorin knowing the reason behind Bilbo acting in a slightly over the top manner all those months ago.

Thorin's smile was languid, but it was a smile nonetheless. "I'm flattered," he said.

Bilbo was instantly wary. He looked at Thorin, frowning. "By the Welshman?"

In any other situation Bilbo would have laughed at the way Thorin rolled his eyes. But jealousy has a way of clouding over truths and exaggerating things that are not even real. "Don't be absurd, Bilbo," Thorin said, taking a step closer to Bilbo. "I'm flattered you broke someone's nose for me." The smile was back and despite the low lighting, Bilbo could see Thorin's clear blue eyes; honest and open, the look reserved only for Bilbo.

"Well, I have never been fond of people coveting what is mine and my own," Bilbo said truthfully. And was glad that he finally got to say that out aloud, never mind the fact that Thorin might just get offended at being thought of as an object.

"I am yours."

Bilbo's heart lurched when he heard Thorin. Of all the times they had exchanged 'I love yous'; over the phone, hastily before leaving for work, the first time when they said it together as they walked back to Bilbo's flat after their third date, this time Thorin declaring he was Bilbo's whilst standing on their porch…well, it was a different sort of feeling all together.

But no one said jealousy was easily managed.

And Bilbo, as cool and confident as he was sometimes, he needed just a little bit of assurance that this man he is with…that Thorin is all his.

"I know. But the Welshman, you know?" Bilbo shrugged, averting his gaze from Thorin's, trying his best not to pout. "Accent, hair, beard. I was mildly attracted to him myself."

"And you thought I'd be…" Thorin did not finish that statement. When Bilbo looked at Thorin, he saw him looking as surprised as he sounded.

Bilbo felt just a tiny bit ridiculous. All these things had sounded perfectly valid and logic when he had thought about it, but out in the open, it was more stupid than anywhere near endearing. "I know it's absurd, but, I could not help it."

Thorin reached out a hand, touching the tendrils of hair near Bilbo's ears. His touch was fleeting, but his eyes were regarding Bilbo with much tenderness. "Accent, hair... I am looking at the finest examples of each attributes right here in front of me...though you do seem to be in need of a haircut, love."

Bilbo's smile turned into quiet laughter.

Thorin's gentle tone suddenly became…less gentle. "And now I have the sudden urge to break this Welshman's nose."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're mildly attracted to him."

Thorin's reply, quiet and with a hint of steel to it, surprised Bilbo. He never thought about it…that Thorin would actually be jealous of someone Bilbo had nothing more than a passing fancy…one that lasted not more than a minute.

_It did not make sense..._

But, it did make sense. In a way that Bilbo knew two people in love could understand. His smile turned into a grin.

"I am more than mildly attracted to you right now," Bilbo admitted, taking a step closer to Thorin, grinning as Thorin leaned forward with every intention of kissing his boyfriend.

"Good. So am I," he managed to say, before his lips claimed Bilbo's.

Several moments passed. Bilbo drew away from Thorin, almost as reluctant as Thorin was in releasing him. His look was nothing less than smouldering when he took Bilbo's hand and led him inside the house.

"It was the women," Bilbo felt like enlightening Thorin, once they were inside their house. It was the answer to Thorin's original question. "At the table behind ours?"

Thorin looked at Bilbo, deep in thought. "I didn't notice them," he said, shaking his head, a frown creasing his brows as he tried to recall and then gave up fairly quickly because he has probably decided it was futile anyway. And perhaps, he was distracted by something as well. The frown was replaced with a mischievous smile, something else that was solely Bilbo's, and Bilbo had learned fairly early on in their relationship what that smile meant (anything ranging from Thorin stealing food from Bilbo's plate to how quickly Thorin could undress Bilbo). The gap between them became nonexistent as Thorin kissed Bilbo again, urgent and none too gently. Bilbo kicked the front door shut and focused his attention on the only person that mattered to him.

And if Thorin was surprised when Bilbo told him to leave his jumper on, he did not show it. He was much too distracted anyway.

-X-X-X-

 


End file.
